The Dragon Blood Collection, Books 1-3

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Who was it you lost?” Ridge asked, though he’d read Apex’s record and knew.

  “My brothers and sisters and I had all moved away, but both of my parents were still living there. And I knew…” Apex jammed the brush into the barrel again, even though there couldn’t be a speck of carbon left inside. “It was a small town. I knew everyone. The Kraytons had just had a new baby. The Pargrats’ little girl… They were good people. All of them.”

  “I’m not going to be his advocate—you’d have to talk to Ahn for that—but my understanding is that he made the weapon but wouldn’t have used it, not like that. Someone betrayed him and unleashed it on Tanglewood and on a Cofah town as well.”

  “So that makes it less of a crime? Even if that’s true, he still made it. He chose to make it. There’s no reason to make something that horrible, not unless you’re a, a monster.” Apex threw his brush down and snapped the pistol back together.

  Ridge had a hard time disagreeing, but said, “Maybe it wasn’t a wise choice, but we’re giving him an opportunity to do some good with his potions now. He can help us, and maybe in doing so save lives that would otherwise be lost.”

  Apex stared at the weapon in his hands. “That doesn’t bring back my parents or anyone else in my village, sir.”

  “I know.”

  “You know that old fable, about the forlorn tiger, sir?”

  Ridge held back a groan, knowing he would get a story. Apex had received his nickname when he had been flying a general up the coast to a meeting, and they had been attacked by pirates along the way. In the midst of an aerial battle at five thousand feet, he had started illustrating a point by quoting historical figures and sharing an obscure myth. The word had gotten around, and other former passengers had mentioned similar experiences—even if pirates hadn’t always been involved. This had earned him the sobriquet Story at the Apex. Since the communications crystals had been installed, the entire squadron had been treated to some of these mid-flight tales. “No, go ahead.”

  “The tiger knew there were poachers in the forest, men that were dangerous because of their rifles. They shot the elephants, but the tiger didn’t do anything, because elephants lumber around and rarely bother speaking with tigers. And then the poachers shot the wolves. Maybe the tiger could have done something, but he really didn’t care about wolves. They were competition on the hunt. When the poachers returned, they shot the buffalo. Again, the tiger did nothing, because it was a beautiful sunny day, and he didn’t want to leave his warm ledge on the rocks. Then one day, the tiger returned home to find that his mate had been shot by the poachers. He was infuriated and tried to round up the forest creatures to help him rid the world of the poachers, but by now, there was nobody except him left to fight. He knew he couldn’t take the poachers by himself, so he slunk away, never to be heard from again.”

  Sometimes the points Apex tried to make with his stories were clear. Sometimes, they left Ridge scratching his head. “So Tolemek is the poacher and you’re the tiger?”

  The pistol drooped in Apex’s hand. “I’m not anything, sir. I’m just afraid that if I do nothing because it’s inconvenient or I’m worried about the consequences, and if nobody else does anything, either… then evil is allowed to roam the earth.”

  Ridge sighed. He had already tried to convince Apex that Tolemek wasn’t pure evil, and he didn’t know what else he could say.

  “He’s not a subject, is he?” Apex asked after a moment of silence. “Just an expatriate living on our soil? He might even still be down as a war criminal. Would it still be…” Apex glanced at Tolemek’s back and lowered his voice to a whisper. “If I shot him, would it be punishable by death or imprisonment? Would my career be over? I’ve studied a number of legal systems from historical societies, but haven’t paid that much attention to ours. Is that odd?”

  Ridge had guessed Apex might be thinking about revenge, but it disturbed him to know the lieutenant had been seriously mulling over the ramifications. It made sense, Ridge supposed. A younger, brasher man might act without considering the consequences, but Apex was old enough to know better. Still, there was something chilling about one of his men so logically debating whether or not to murder someone. He opted to lighten the conversation. “No, the modern ones are complicated and the law books are exceedingly boring to read. Military justice books are especially dry. I’ll spare you the story about why I had the task to read several chapters once—and write essays on them.”

  Apex didn’t smile. So much for lightening the conversation.

  “He’s not a subject, nor has the king granted him provisional citizenship, but he does have a protected status. I don’t want to lose you, Anders,” Ridge said, using the lieutenant’s first name for once, “so I hope you’re not seriously considering murder.”

  Apex flinched again. Maybe he couldn’t believe he was considering murder, either, but saw it as the only acceptable path for revenge. Or justice. Yes, that might be more what rankled him than anything. The fact that Tolemek had been responsible for so many deaths and was allowed to walk freely in the very country where he had killed hundreds. And nobody was doing anything about it. Maybe he felt he had to be the one.

  “If you can’t find another solution for your heart, maybe you can challenge him to a duel,” Ridge said.

  “Dueling is illegal, sir,” Apex said glumly.

  “Among soldiers and officers, yes, but not among civilians.” Granted it had fallen out of fashion over the last couple of decades, with the Iskandians busy fighting off invaders and frowning upon anything that caused young men, men who could be defending their country, to be killed foolishly.

  Apex lifted his chin and gazed into the forest. “Perhaps, hm.”

  When he didn’t say anything else, Ridge patted him on the shoulder and walked away. He didn’t know if he had solved anything, or merely postponed the inevitable, but he hoped Apex would at least avoid shooting Tolemek in the back in the middle of Ridge’s mission.

  Ridge’s mission. He snorted as he headed over to check on Sardelle. His self-appointed mission, maybe. Wasn’t he just supposed to be the flying rickshaw driver? How had he ended up taking responsibility for this?

  I believe it started when you drugged that officer and punted him out of your flier.

  Jaxi. Ridge frowned at the intrusion—and at the fact that someone besides Sardelle was privy to his private thoughts. Everyone is resting. Don’t you need naps too?

  Not at all. Sardelle is sleeping, though, so I thought I’d inform you directly.

  Inform me of what?

  The man floating above the mountain base in a balloon.

  Ridge halted, his foot halfway between one step and the next. What?

  A man is sitting in a basket under a balloon and looking out at the land around the mountain with a large spyglass.

  Ridge sighed. He’d been thinking of lying down and cuddling with Sardelle—and maybe doing some of that very interesting kissing where he could tell what she was thinking, especially the part about her imagining him naked—not heading back up a tree, but he grabbed his rifle and left camp.

  “Problem, sir?” Ahn called softly from behind some snow-covered ferns. In the darkness, he hadn’t seen her.

  “Maybe. Want to come take a look with me?”

  She slipped out of the brush and joined him. He opted for walking toward the crest of the hill that lay between them and the start of the steaming pools instead of climbing a tree. Someone up in a balloon might spot some strangely moving branches. Especially if that someone was on the alert and expecting spies. Just because the Cofah airship had warned him to leave didn’t mean they believed he would.

  It took Ridge and Ahn fifteen minutes of climbing to reach the top of the hill—there was probably no need to worry about passing that physical exam next month. It was covered with the charred remains of trunks still standing after some past forest fire, and he had no trouble seeing the sky and out to the dark silhouette of the mountain, an alm
ost perfect conical shape rising a hundred feet above the surrounding grounds.

  “That looks man-made,” Ahn said.

  “It might be. Here, stay back against this brush, so we won’t stand out. Do you see anything in the sky?” Clouds had rolled in, otherwise the stars would be visible by now. He searched for Jaxi’s balloon and spotted it a heartbeat before Ahn spoke and pointed.

  “There. Observation balloon.”

  “Good eye. Hm, it’s drifting north, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it loops toward our camp.” Ridge licked a finger and tested the wind. Those balloons had some directional abilities, but weren’t as navigable as an airship with engines and propellers. Without the fliers, they ought to be able to hide from the observer, especially at night, although… “Maybe we’d like it to visit our camp.”

  “So we can shoot the observer?” Ahn asked.

  “It’s not the observer I want. Come on, I need to talk to Sardelle.” Ridge hustled back down the hill.

  • • • • •

  Sardelle woke when Lieutenant Duck returned to camp. He padded in quietly, but started talking to Apex right away. “Where’s the colonel?”

  “Off to check on something with Raptor.”

  Sardelle pushed herself up. She didn’t think she had been asleep that long, but full darkness had fallen. The cold earth didn’t make a comfortable bed, but she had been so tired from the day of marching through snow—and using magic to clear it—that she had been asleep before her head touched the pack. She hadn’t heard Ridge leave and swept out with her senses. Ah, there he was. Jogging back toward the group.

  “Well, I couldn’t find a way out to that mountain,” Duck said. “There are pools all over the place, and they’re hotter than lava to the touch. I tried to find a place where you could walk between them, but Deathmaker was right. The limestone or calcium or whatever that whitish gunk is makes up a thin layer, and there’s water beneath it if you break through. I didn’t see a landing pad around that mountain, but I’m figuring you have to fly out there somehow.”

  “You do,” came Ridge’s voice from the trees. “Sardelle, I’m in need of your assistance again. Could you convince that balloon to come visit us?”

  “Balloon?” She yawned and crawled out from beneath her tree. She couldn’t see anyone in the darkness, but sensed people’s positions. Tolemek and Apex hadn’t moved, or killed each other yet. That was good.

  Up and to the northwest, Jaxi supplied.

  Thank you. “All right. I see it.”

  “I’d like for it to have a hot air problem and be forced to the ground nearby, if that’s doable.” Ridge found her and wrapped an arm around her. “Sorry, it’s probably not polite to wake you early and ask for favors without a hug.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek too.

  Sardelle leaned into him, happy for the warmth, then rested her cheek against his chest while she examined the hot air balloon more closely.

  “How come we don’t get hugs when he wants favors from us?” Duck asked.

  “I think there’s a rule against officers hugging other officers,” Ahn said.

  “There’s a rule against physical relationships and displays of affection,” Apex said, “but I don’t believe friendly hugs are mentioned in the regulations.”

  “That’s more than a friendly hug. I’m fairly certain he’s touching her butt.”

  Sardelle was concentrating on the balloon and trying to ignore them, but caught herself flushing anyway.

  “I am not,” Ridge protested. “That’s her hip. I think. It’s dark out here tonight.”

  “Actually, it’s neither,” Sardelle said, deciding to go along with the teasing rather than try to protest it.

  Ridge found something softer to squeeze than her hip, and she sensed his grin even if she couldn’t see it. “So, I see.”

  “Am I correct that you don’t want the balloon damaged?” she asked.

  “Yes, we can patch it if need be, but that’s going to be our ride out to the mountain.”

  “What about the pilot?” Sardelle started nudging the large balloon in their direction, forming channels of air, similar to what she had done to divert that giant owl familiar back on Galmok Mountain.

  “He’s not invited,” Ridge said.

  “What I mean is that I wouldn’t care to bring him down into our midst to see him shot in front of my eyes.”

  “We can gag him and tie him to a tree. That ought to hold him for a few hours. That should be all we need.”

  “All right. I should have his craft down in a few minutes if you want to hide to ambush him.” Once he got closer, Sardelle might be able to convince him to fall asleep so a violent ambush could be avoided. Then again, he had already realized his balloon was fighting him more than it should. He would be alert when she funneled out some of his hot air, forcing him to land.

  “I’ll take care of that,” Tolemek said from his tree. He rolled to his feet, something in his hand. One of those little leather balls.

  The hot air balloon came into sight over the treetops. Sardelle blew out the fire in its burner, eliciting a startled protest from the handler. She funneled air out of the balloon, too, and it descended rapidly. The wind came up, fighting her, and she struggled to keep it from getting caught in the trees. Unfortunately, the unwieldy craft defied her, and the balloon snagged on the skeletal branches of a birch. Several snaps sounded, and she thought the balloon might fall to the ground, but enough large branches caught to support the weight of the pilot and basket.

  “Sorry,” Sardelle whispered, embarrassed by her lack of accuracy.

  Tolemek handed his ball to Ahn. “I have a feeling you’ll be better at hitting that target than I. Push that indention before you throw it.”

  “Got it.” Ahn jogged a couple of steps and chucked the ball.

  It arced up toward the tree and landed in the basket.

  The pilot, alternating between trying to relight his burner and push the branches out of his basket, didn’t notice it land at his feet. A minute later, all of his activity stopped.

  “Nice work,” Ridge said. “Now, who’s going to climb up there, extract the pilot, and get the balloon down without ripping it into a thousand pieces?”

  No one rushed to volunteer. The balloon was a good twenty feet up in that tree.

  “It depends, sir,” Duck said. “Are hugs involved?”

  “If a hug from me is what it takes to motivate you, Lieutenant, I suppose in this situation, I’d consider that a fair trade-off.”

  “Maybe he wants a hug from Sardelle,” Tolemek said.

  “Er.” Duck shifted his weight, the snow crunching beneath his feet.

  Sardelle had a feeling that might have been an acceptable reward at one time, but now he was uncomfortable at the idea of her coming close. Ridge had been once, too, she reminded herself.

  I’ll do it for a nice oiling of my blade.

  From whom?

  Anyone with a gentle hand. That Apex is handsome when he’s not being surly about pirate boy.

  “Jaxi and I will handle it,” Sardelle said.

  You forgot to mention my oiling.

  I’m not sure this group is ready to hear about your quirky needs.

  They’re not quirky. You like being oiled now and then too. I’ve seen it.

  Sardelle resisted the impulse to explain the difference between massages and having one’s blade protected from moisture. She was busy lifting the unconscious pilot from his basket and lowering him to the ground. Ahn stood at her shoulder, her rifle ready in case he woke up. But Tolemek’s smoke had worked again, and the man remained inert.

  Jaxi handled the branches and the balloon, repairing rips as she went. Sardelle relit the coal in the burner, and by the time the basket touched down, it was almost ready to take off again. Her head ached by the time she finished all of these tasks. The thirty minutes of sleep she had gotten hadn’t been as refreshing as she had hoped.

  “Apex, Duck, tie the prisoner, please.” Ridge walke
d to the basket and inspected it as much with his hands as with his eyes in the dark. “This isn’t very big. We’ll all be hugging and touching butts. At least it’s not a long journey.” He removed a rope and tied the basket to a tree. With the burner running again, the balloon was threatening to rise.

  “Are we going to wait to go in?” Sardelle asked, hoping for a few hours of sleep before breaking into an ultra modern and secure Cofah laboratory.

  “Yeah.” Duck yawned. “I could get more excited about butt touching after a nap.”

  “An appealing notion,” Ridge said—whether he referred to naps or butt touches wasn’t entirely clear. “But this fellow might be missed. We better go in now. Maybe we’ll finish our mission in thirty minutes and celebrate by finding an only mildly heated hot spring to lounge in after that.”

  Nobody did anything more optimistic than snorting. If things were going to be easy, the two elite troops wouldn’t have been captured. Or killed.

  “Grab your gear,” Ridge said, his voice more sober. “It’s time to go.”

  Chapter 12

  The railing of the basket was digging into Ridge’s ribcage. He wasn’t sure whose elbow was in his back, but it wasn’t Sardelle’s. She was plastered into the corner beside him. The entire team had fit into the basket, but not comfortably, and the balloon hadn’t budged, merely hovering above them with placid indifference when they removed the rope anchoring it to a tree.

  “Guess we shouldn’t have done all those push-ups,” Duck had said. “It made our muscles grow too heavy.”

  “More likely all that beer you swill made your belly grow too heavy,” Apex muttered.

  Fortunately Sardelle, or maybe Jaxi, had done something, causing the balloon to swell until it appeared ready to burst, and the basket had floated into the air. Now they were drifting slowly toward the mountain, across the steaming pools and through air that stank of sulfur and decomposing things. The moon was poking through the clouds, a development Ridge wasn’t enthused by, since anyone watching from the mountain would be able to notice the balloon—and the abnormal number of people stuffed into the basket.